nna
he silence in the p
of the newspaper. He was wearing a crisp gray shirt, his hair s
I announced, grabbi
sure? The paparazzi and sports blogg
have a business to run. And
rive you," wa
. The plaza security guard looked at me with pity. The early-mor
otos? The injured c
was pregnant
an't even sk
igh and walked t
ted me, was holding a glossy sports tabloid with Beckett's fac
ah sneered. "How much did the former all-star pay
felt the blood
. "Customers are complaining. They don't want
Mr. Henderson, hurried in. He looked
mean, Mrs. Sincla
g me?" I asked,
r business immensely. In fact, we've received a... generous anonymous comme
You said yesterday you wer
ace hardened. "Pack your things,
Sarah s
rity footage to the sports press," Henderso
ed, as Sarah was dra
A text from an
day, Mrs.
black SUV was still at the
ere I left him, his wheelchair positioned near the f
he asked witho
. "My plaza bully got evicted. And the pro
w, but I still know where the bodies are buried. Henderson has a secret fondness for
once-unstoppable athlete who couldn't even walk right now,
ou," I w
my arms around his broad shoulders and b
slowly, his large, calloused hand-a hand made for
is voice rough and possessive against
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